


Lover's Lane

by ddagent



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Car Sex, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 23:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Two lovers in a darkened car. Written for the Berena NSFW ficathon; prompt 'clothed getting off'.





	Lover's Lane

**Author's Note:**

> My second entry for the challenge. I hope you enjoy!

“Did you hear that?”

Serena didn’t want to stop, listen, think. She was on a knife edge; a few more thrusts and she would be _done._ But the thigh working itself between her legs had paused; the blonde head leaving kiss after kiss to the column of her neck frozen. Reluctantly, Serena halted the progression of fingers down Bernie’s spine and strained to listen; hoping it was nothing more than a branch or a squirrel. But, in the distance, she could hear the soft murmur of an engine.

 “It’s just a car; I wouldn’t worry.”

“I thought you said no one uses this road!”

Serena glared; the effect lessened in the near dark. “I said it was _rarely_ used, not _never_ used.” She shifted away from Bernie’s grasp, pulling herself up on her elbows. “Do you want to stop? Go home?”

“Of course not, I just-I don’t want to get caught.”

“Neither do I.” Serena bridged the gap between them; letting her lips linger against Bernie’s mouth. “Let’s just wait to see which way it goes. If it stops, we’ll just say we were having car trouble. No one will suspect a thing. Alright?”

“Alright.”  

So they waited. Serena, legs spread, pressed against the vinyl of the back seat. Bernie, hair mussed, lying atop her. The wait should be awkward; punctuated by small talk and cramped limbs. But, if anything, it built the tension between them. Bernie’s thigh was still between her legs; every awkward shift adding pressure to Serena’s aching clit. Her hand, curved against Bernie’s behind, could not resist making small circles through her polyester shorts. In the dim light, Serena could just make out Bernie’s bottom lip; teeth sinking through plump flesh. Her pupils were blown; darting from Serena’s eyes to her mouth to the blossoming mark on her throat.

The car engine still sounded miles away. “Oh will it _just_ hurry up!”

Above her, Bernie smirked. “Eager, are we?”

“And you’re not?”

The tension in Bernie’s frame was clear. The desperation, _hunger,_ in her eyes plain. Both of them wanted this. It had been too long, nearly a week, since they had been able to sneak off together. Serena said a silent prayer that the car would keep on driving; that they would be able to continue undisturbed. She held her breath, eyes screwed shut, as the car drew near. It zipped right past them.

Serena let out a sigh of relief; her mouth quickly covered by Bernie’s own.

With the fear of discovery quickly evaporating, Bernie’s mouth continued its assault against Serena’s throat. Teeth nipping at sensitive skin; immediately soothed by a warm tongue. Hands massaged her breasts through the thick material of her jumper. Serena pushed Bernie aside just long enough to pull the scratchy material over her head and toss it into the foot well of the car. She needed _more._ She wanted to feel the warmth of Bernie’s hands through the thin fabric of her blouse. Wanted her pebbled nipples to rub against the heel of her palm. Wanted chapstick marks against her breasts that she would have to scrub out in secret.

“Oh, _god,_ Bernie!” She tangled her fingers through Bernie’s blonde mane, forcing her mouth to hers. “I’m so close.”

Smirking, Bernie pulled Serena flush against her; wrapping her leg around Bernie’s hip. Together they worked her thigh against Serena’s cunt; her knickers soaking through as her climax built and _built._ Her pleated skirt, neatly pressed that morning, was now bunched around her hips. Knee socks rolled to her ankles; the heel of a black shoe digging into the small of Bernie’s back. In a perfect world, Bernie would slip Serena’s white, cotton knickers down her legs and slide her fingers through sopping folds. But this wasn’t a perfect world. Riding Bernie’s thigh would have to be good enough.

It all grew too much. _She came_. Back writhing; voice hoarse. Above her, Bernie sat back on her haunches to watch her handiwork unfold. “Worth the wait?”

“Mmm, very.” Serena laughed; her body jelly. Bernie, however, was rigid; fixed in frustration. Serena sat up, crawling her way to Bernie’s lap. They kissed, her tongue sinking into Bernie’s mouth. She whimpered against her lips. “One good turn deserves another. Don’t you agree?”

“I really, _really_ do.”

One hand teasing the nape of Bernie’s neck, Serena slid the other between them. The brush of a breast, a graze of her stomach. Fingertips lingering against inner thigh. Bernie’s head fell back, her bottom lip quivering in anticipation. She was close. Wouldn’t take much for Bernie to come in her shorts; soaking through her knickers and football kit. Serena pressed two fingers between her legs, rubbing the fabric in short, sharp bursts. She could feel the wet material under her skin; the outline of Bernie’s engorged clit. Serena focused her touch there, working Bernie hard until the car was filled with pants and gasps.

Fingernails bit into her shoulders as Bernie came, her body trembling. She smiled as she came down; all sweaty and satisfied, as if she’d just played a full ninety minutes. “Thank you. _Thank you._ ”

“You’re very welcome.” Her hand slid over the curve of Bernie’s bicep, a second wind hitting her. Watching Bernie like that…few things were more arousing. Bernie’s teasing hand against the front of her blouse suggested she, too, could go a little while longer. But the clock above the dashboard said five. Time to go. “We should-“

“-right. Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”

They each took two minutes to right themselves. Serena put her jumper back on, rolled her socks to her knee. Bernie brushed her hair and adjusted the line of her shorts. They returned to the front seat; Serena pulling out of the ditch and onto the main road. They’d be home in twenty minutes. Not the McKinnie’s in 44, or the Wolfe’s in 42, would be any the wiser to their daughters activities. Serena was _tutoring,_ Bernie was _training._ No one would suspect that the head girl of St Winifred’s and the top striker at Holby Comp snuck out to get each other off in a dark country lane.

As long as they kept it confined to the car, no one would _ever._


End file.
